Midnight
by Kate Matheson
Summary: Snapshots of Draco and his wife.  Each takes place at midnight, one for each month of the year.
1. January

January

Ice and snow cover the narrow staircase that leads to the roof. It's not a place I visit all too often, but over the years I've discovered that the roof is a great place to come when the cares of the world get to be just too much to bear. The darkness that envelopes the country this late at night is oddly comforting, but the cold is bitter.

I pull out my wand and cast several warming spells, then stow it back in the pocket of my robes. My hands are chilled and absently I rub them together before settling against the low wall, inhaling deeply. It's a good place to come after a long day at work, where people and paperwork has gotten me on edge. My shoulders are tense, and I roll them, taking another deep breath.

"Another difficult day?"

The voice behind me is melodious and soft; I open my eyes and smile as she wraps her arms around me from behind. Lila. My wife of nearly ten years.

"It's over now." Her lips feather over my neck and I turn around to greet my wife properly. There are snowflakes sticking to her cape, though she sheds it in deference to my warming charm. Lila is a beauty by any standards, though she would blush prettily if I were to voice that opinion. It's a commodity, really, a Malfoy wife who isn't vain. An oddity, really, but she's my match in every way.

"I assumed you would come inside when you came home. Imagine my surprise when the wards indicated that there was someone on the roof," she said softly.

"Did I frighten you?" I asked her, still holding her close.

"No. I trust your wards. Nobody's getting in who doesn't belong."

Letting her go, I lean against the wall again, and Lila settles herself onto my lap.

"It's quiet up here. Peaceful."

"Mmm."

"I guess it's a…sanctuary from the rat-race at work."

Her laughter bubbles up as she caresses my hands with her own. "Feeling a bit melodramatic tonight, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Sleepy, I suppose." With a smile, I add, "Mrs. Malfoy."

"Ready to head inside?"

"Not yet." She nods, understanding the need for tranquility, and conjures two champagne flutes. We sip them for several minutes as snowflakes begin to fall again outside of my warming spells; the moon is still visible through the snow clouds. It covers the trees and her gardens below with a light dust of white. Malfoy Manor never looked this pure before Lila came here. The effects of having someone innocent in residence? Or because she loves me unreservedly? In any case, I've rediscovered the ability to see simplistic beauty in just about anything. Just one of the many things I owe my wife for.

She turned on my lap slightly and I was looking into the depths of her sweet eyes. She can't hide anything with those eyes, not from me, at least.

"For the longest time, I never understood what the appeal of the roof was for you. It didn't make sense to me, being up here so far away from everyone else."

"Oh?"

"I thought you were hiding. Bu that's not the case, is it?"

I only smiled at her, kissed her forehead in reply.

"When did you discover this place?"

"I've lived here all my life. I've always known about it," I remind her.

"That's not what I meant."

"Just after the war ended, before we were married. I had just come out of the safe house…the one in muggle London?" When she nodded, I continued. "The wireless was nearly useless, it would only play one channel, and the songs were…ancient, not at all anything I would have usually listened to. But, after being virtually alone for so many weeks, I was desperate to hear the sound of another human voice, so I turned it on anyway. The song that was playing was talking about being up on the roof. Something along the lines of when people are too much to take, just go up on the roof, because you can let go of your frustrations, and they'll float away into space.

"When I finally was able to come home…you know what it was like. The nightmares, the guilt. I decided that it was worth a try, and I came up here. It works for me. I can let go of the cares and…baggage…that goes along with the job now, and I don't have to bring them into the house with me. Better for all of us that way."

Her eyes searched mine for the longest time, and I became uneasy that I had concerned her. There truly was no need for Lila to be concerned, not any longer.

"Are you okay now?" she asked softly.

"Never better, angel." I quirked her a smile. "I've got you."

Lila giggled and rolled her eyes at me. "Don't quit your day job, Malfoy. You've got no future in the greeting card industry."

"A muggle thing, right?" I checked. She nodded, then turned serious once more.

"Promise you'll come to me if you ever need to talk about anything?"

It was important to her to have this promise from me, I can tell by her posture.

"Of course."

"Because I'll listen. And, not just because it's my job as your wife. I want to hear, Draco."

"Promise," I repeat. She nods and wraps her arms around me once more, snuggling her head against my shoulder.

And we watch the snow fall.


	2. February

February

It's raining steadily outside the bedroom windows. Unusual for this time of year, it should be snow.

Lightening flashes, illuminating the clock across the room, and despite the hour, I rise and begin to dress. There's no reason to leave the candles unlit, he's still working, as he always seems to be these days. Lucky for him I've never been the jealous society type wife. Even so, the room remains dark as I wrap my winter robes around me, and head toward the stairs. I've work to do in the greenhouse.

My soft shoes make no noise in the hall, and even the house elves do not hear me when I slip out the front door.

Rainwater is pouring from the eaves and I am thankful that my cape has a hood. I dash for the greenhouse, but cannot resist splashing in the puddles on the path like a child.

Inside the greenhouse I point my wand at the chandelier and mutter a lumos; the rain on the glass roof beats like a drum. Sliding between rows of potted plants giving a gentle caress here, a mist of water there, I soon come to the secluded table near the back.

The plant looks sickly, worse now that when my mother sent it to me, and for a moment, I wonder if this is another of her attempts at humor – to send me a cutting I cannot maintain. With a shrug, I dismiss the thought. Trickery or not, I'm determined to see what the little sapling will become.

Mother's instructions were to add a dose of Serendipity Potion to the watering can, then water the plant ten minutes before midnight on a "day of significance."

Valentine's Day seemed appropriate, if a tad absurd. The potion vial has been in my pocket all afternoon.

Quickly, I uncork the vial and upend it over the watering can. A glance at my watch indicated that it is time to water the pot.

The solution seeps through the soil and I watch giddily, setting the watering can aside.

Ten minutes.

Would the plant grow? Unlikely, from the mere sight of it. If it hadn't been for the intriguing note from Mum, I would never have introduced the cutting into my garden's greenhouse. Diseased, most likely.

Six minutes. The rain seems to be slowing, but just slightly. Could it be an optical illusion, or are the stems standing straighter? I busy my hands rinsing the potions from the watering can, then pick up a pair of sheers. A clip here, a snip there, then I glance at the clock again.

Four minutes until midnight. I believe it is only wishful thinking to suggest that the leaves are greener than they were two minutes ago. There is a squeaking sound, but the pitter-patter of rain obscures the location. I continue to prune, but my giddy excitement is unproductive. I return the sheers to the shelf.

At one minute to midnight, I stare intently at the little plant.

"If believing were enough, I think that decrepit little plant would start to grow right now," drawls a familiar voice.

"Draco!" His sudden appearance startled me.

"Hello, love." His kiss is gentle, welcome.

"It's a sample for Mother," I explain as he wraps me in his arms and we both gaze at the plant. "Something is supposed to happen at midnight."

I can feel his grin.

"Well, it's got about ten seconds. Looks like it might be running behind."

"Hmm," I huff.

In the distance, I hear our clocks chime twelve. I sigh in disappointment, then turn to kiss my husband once again. He is less gentle this time, and his taste lingers longer on my lips when he pulls away.

"Lila."

"Hmm?"

"Look." He is pointing to my pot, so I turn to see.

The flowers are in full bloom, all the shape of tiny red hearts. The foliage is lush and green, and I can smell the fresh fragrance from the blooms.

"Well. What do you know?" I grin, then pick a sprig and hand t to Draco.

"Be my Valentine?" I ask with a smile.

"Always. If you'll be mine," he replies.

"Every day."

Silently, we go inside to sleep.


	3. March

March

It's snowing outside. The wind is blowing and the drifts are two feet deep in some places. Making up for lost time, it seems. If the temperature stays cold, I may just get to do some skiing after all.

The elves have done their best to keep the walks clear, but my boots are still wet when I cross the threshold. My overcoat goes on the stand by the entry and I cross to the grand staircase. If my timing is precise, Lila will be in the bedroom preparing for the evening.

The plush rugs in the hall muffle my footsteps; there is a soft light glowing through the partially open door of the master suit. I can hear my wife's favorite music from the wireless as well.

She is seated at her dressing table an I lean against the door jam. Watching her. Its been one of my favorite pastimes since we've been married. I just love to look at her.

"See something you like?" her sultry voice questions.

A slow smile creeps across my lips.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Come. You need to change. We'll be late."

Idly, I wonder if we could forego the evening and make regrets later. It was highly tempting to simply…retire…for the night. I caught a glimpse of Lila once more. The dress robes were new, I'm fairly certain. Which of course, rules out staying home.

I hunt through my closet for an appropriate ensemble. Something black to contrast her white. Something which would afford a modicum of comfort. We were going mostly because my wife wanted to dance. And, something stylish. A man has a certain amount of pride, after all.

Garments selected, I quickly change, then return to the main room, only to receive a critical once over from my charming spouse. Finally, she smiles.

"You don't clean up half bad, Mr. Malfoy."

"And you look stunning, my Angel. New dress?"

She smiled prettily, which means I've done well. I offer my arm to escort her down the stairs. We're met at the front door by another of the house elves. She had our wraps. I held Lila's as she slid into it. Then we stepped outside and apparated away.

When we reappeared, we were before a large manor house. The sign on the gate read Creevey Place. Who would have ever guessed that the irritating schoolboy would grow up to be a recognized artist, celebrated worldwide for his stellar photography and vivid paintings?

The gathering was well under way when we entered the ball room. The crowd seemed to swim through the room. Almost at once, I was separated from my wife. Ginny Weasley was pulling her away and I found myself drug into conversation with some former Slytherin's who'd been a year or two ahead of me at Hogwarts. To my surprise, several hours passed before Lila and I made our way back to each other.

I offer her a wine glass, which she accepted gratefully. Then took her arm. The thought of being separated from her again was unappealing.

She sipped from the glass, her painted lips smooth on the edge of the flute, her eyes scanning the room.

"Searching from someone?"

She shook her elegant head.

"Something, actually. A secluded area, an unpopulated corner."

"Will we kiss like teenagers?" I whisper cheekily into her ear.

"I rather thought we might share a dance." Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "Like the refined adults we proclaim to be."

She makes me smile.

"I guess that could work, too."

We begin to stroll through the crowd, looking for a small, shady corner to claim.

Locating just such a space, Lila turned and leaned against me. I took her gently in my arms and we began to sway to the soft strains from the orchestra.

I heard her sigh as she relaxed against my chest; the sound compelled me to hold her closer.

"Sleepy?" I ask. She only nods. "We'll take our leave after this song," I promise, settling in to enjoy a dance with a lovely woman.

The scent of her flowered shampoo carried up, reminding me of a steamy garden. Lila always reminds me of enchanted blooms. Her skin was soft against mine, and her curves fit against me as if we'd been built for one another.

The music swelled to an end and I leaned in to capture her lips with my own. Somewhere in the background a clock chimed. Midnight had crept upon us without so much as a warning.

A manicured hand caressed my cheek, her eyes smiling, but sleepy. "Home?" she asks.

"If you're ready," I agree.

"Yes."

At the front doors, she looks at me once more. I can't identify what it in her eyes.

"Thank you, Draco." Her tone is serious.

"For?"

"Just, thank you."

I take her hand and squeeze. The look in her eye says that we've both understood.

"Let's go home."

She giggles. "Race you," she teases, then disapparates. Shaking my head, I follow.

There is a tinkle of laughter in the hallway when I arrive. Life with Lila is never dull.


	4. April

April

For the first time, I'm glad that Draco is often called away at a moment's whim. It leaves me tonight with spades of time to contemplate what I need to tell him.

I glance down at the parchment letter on the bed beside me, and dab the corners of my eyes with a cloth. This is supposed to be a happy moment, but I'm left feeling quite daunted, completely uncertain of how to respond. The owl delivered the letter hours ago, over breakfast, and it's taken me this long to bring up the courage to break the seal marked with a wand and cross bone, the seal from St. Mungo's.

The news is as I feared. Or hoped, I still can't decide. Though it is of little matter now. I am with child.

We've talked for ages about starting a family, and until very recently, my anxiety had been under control. Granted, it was a very perilous control, but guarded it was.

Quietly rising, I left the master suit and padded down the staircase to the library. Instantly an elf appeared to light the fires and the room warmed considerably.

"May I bring Madam anything from the kitchens?" came the squeaky inquiry.

"Tea, Hoppity, thank you." The little elf bowed before she disappeared once again with a pop.

Stepping to the shelves, I ran the pads of my fingers over the spines of the books; a couple of the book sighed in contentment. I soon came across the tomb I was searching for, a volume of family pictures that Narcissa had given to me some time after Draco and I had been married. It contained pictures of my husband as a boy, starting with shortly after his birth.

I settled into a chair and opened the volume on my lap. Instantly, images of the infant Draco smiled up at me from the arms of a much younger Lucius Malfoy. The senior Malfoy was smiling with pride at his progeny. Cissy looked tired, I noted with concern, then turned the page.

Hoppity returned with the tea and a tray of pastries that were left over from the day. She was gone just as quickly as she'd appeared; I turned the page in the book. He was older in these shots, though not by much. There were photos of Draco with his Godfather, with both of his parents, playing with his nanny elf, and as he grew older, sitting astride his first pony, flying on a children' s broom. All of the things I had expected to see. Rubbing a hand over my abdomen, I tried to envision my own child, and the photos we would take of him. Or her.

And I found, with some despair, that I couldn't.

I cannot imagine being a mother, and that frightens me more than anything about this situation. If I cannot imagine it, I fear I will be ineffective in my duties to the infant.

Tears fill my eyes once again, blurring the pictures on my lap. Of all of the undertakings I've set to in my life, this will by far be the most important. And I fear I have neither the talents nor the intuition to accomplish the task.

By and by the fire rushes, turning green.

Draco floo's through, brushing the soot from his robes as he steps out of the fireplace. At first he doesn't see me, ensconced in the chair, but when he looks up, a smile crosses his face.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," he grinned. He noticed my red eyes, and the grin turned to a frown.

"What's the matter, Lila?"

With a sniffle, I dab at my eyes once more, then look up at him.

"I've had an owl from Mungo's."

He nodded in understanding, and quietly crossed the floor. Kneeling down before me, he tugged on my hands until I was leaning against his chest. Before I knew what he was about, I was scooped into my husband's arms, and he was in the chair, settling me on his lap.

"I'm sorry, Lila. We'll try again, darling. I know it's disappointing. I'm sorry you were alone when the owl arrived."

I looked at him in confusion for several seconds before understanding dawned.

"You misunderstand," I whisper.

"Oh?"

"We're pregnant."

A slow smile crosses his lips. It reaches all the way to his eyes, causing them to sparkle. The kiss he leaves on my lips in gentle and sweet.

"Why does this news distress you, my love?"

"It's just…" The words won't come. I burry my eyes against his chest and he wraps his arms tighter around me. I feel the gentle tickle of his mind against mine. Legilimency. Pushing my thoughts to the forefront, I invite him in. The sensation is like a warm caress as he enters my mind. Such an intimate feeling, Draco is the only person I could trust enough to do this.

Soon enough his presence leaves, and I hear his soft chuckle.

"Lila. Ineffective? You're going to be an incredible mother."

"But I still can't picture it!"

"It's only been fifteen hours, dearest. Give yourself time to adjust. You're too hard on yourself."

Even hearing his voice is calming me. The slow rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat are more so.

"Let's go upstairs. I think that in the morning you might take a more optimistic outlook of this news. Let's not borrow trouble, sweetheart. Our baby will be perfect, and you and I will be, maybe not perfect parents, but certainly loving. That's all the baby will need."

Strange how simple my husband can break things down. Or, perhaps, its fatigue that has me so agreeable to his outlook. But suddenly, having our baby doesn't seem as frightening as it did even ten minutes ago.


	5. May

May

The Malfoy temper has reared its ugly skull again. Really, though, the woman is unreasonable, I can't spend every waking moment by her side. If I did, I would lose the illustrious ministry job I've spent the last fifteen years carving out. And she would nag about that as well.

I pointed my wand at the doors before me and they crash against the wall as they fling open. I feel smug at the clatter; I know how she disapproves of slamming doors. I slam the next one on principal, frightening the house elf in the process. The ugly little critter squeals and flees from the room in terror. Later, I'll feel bad about that. Right now, I just want to fume.

Stomping down the grand staircase used to make me feel better when I was younger, but right now it has little effect. I am annoyed to be acting in such a temper. What, am I sixteen again? Is this how she makes me act?

One minute she's calm, relaxed, serene. The next, she's ranting and raving like a wounded dragon. Really, I was prepared to duck in case she started spitting fire. And because of what? An invitation that we can't accept? Her shrill voice still echoes in my head as I prepare to apparate to the office.

"_Ginny is one of my closest friends, Draco, we were roommates at Hogwarts for seven years! I can't not go, this is her engagement party!"_

"_Then you should have added it to my calendar. Or said something before now, Lila, I have to work. This is an important meeting tonight, representatives from all over the continent have been invited. It's my proposition, and I have to be there."_

"_So what am I supposed to tell my friends? We can't come because the Ministry got in the way? You are aware of who she is, right? And who her fiancé is?"_

"_I'm not taking favors from Ginny Weasley, and there's no bloody way I'm going to ask Harry bloody Potter for time off at work!"_

How that bumbling fool ever became head of the department, I'll never figure out. Just like in school, what Potter wants, Potter gets. He may be a saint that ridded the world of Lord Snakeface, cleaned up the rancid government and restored order to the country in general, but I just don't like him. Plus, really, we need someone more photogenic for the times he ends up in the Prophet. That and, I just don't like the git.

"_Why not? He's not going to be at this all important meeting, obviously, so why can't it be rescheduled for the morning? Draco, you're being unreasonable, here. How would you have felt if Vince and Greg hadn't come to our engagement party?"_

"_Vince and Greg were groomsmen, Lila."_

"_Exactly!"_

"_You're not in her wedding! Why are we fighting about this?"_

"Because you refuse to support me!"

"_I refuse to sup…what?"_

"_It's not like this is something new, we've been doing this dance for the last ten years! You're the one that drummed it into my head, even before our wedding. 'Social obligations must be seen to with tact and decorum.' Do you know how often I wanted to shove those words back down your throat? Well, I learned to adapt to them, and I've played your way for ten years! I've been to every dinner party that frigid Pansy Goyle has given, we've danced next to dignitaries and foreign ministers just to satisfy the 'social obligations that are attached to the name Malfoy.' Well, now you're going to play by your own rules, Mr. Malfoy. We're not going to snub the Head of Magical Law Enforcement because he picked on you in the school yard!"_

"_You've never minded going to balls and dancing all night before, and if I've ever heard you say a bad thing about the Goyle's before, I'll eat this shirt. Your hormones are mass producing right now, and I'm not going to validate these inane accusations with a response. I'm not changing any rules, I'm insuring that we can still pay the bills when we're a hundred and ten years old."_

"_By snubbing your supervisor and losing your job? And, frankly I don't think there's a person alive that could spend the Malfoy and DuPrette fortunes combined. But I do think this: if you don't find a way to be at Hogwarts tonight in your best dress robes and with a smile, then you may as well ask the elves now to make up another bed for you, because you won't be welcome in mine!"_

The slamming of the bathroom door will ring in my brain until the day I die. I appeared in my office at the Ministry of Magic, MLE section. Who would have ever thought that the son of a death eater would be able to claim such a thing? 'Course, it's not Auror work like I'd originally planned, but the lectures on forensics had fascinated me during training.

The fire in my office flared, and a stack of inter-office memo's flutter through the floo. It's time to stop thinking of the past, and concentrate on the immediate future, specifically, the meeting I'm about to take. I collect the pertinent documents and files, and leave for the reserved conference room.

There are several people already milling around inside. I nod at those I know while settling into my chair.

"You look less than pleased to be here today, Malfoy," greeted Seamus Finnegan. He was head of the MLE department in Ireland.

"It's nothing; marital…my wife's pregnant," I sigh. He nods as if that explained it all. Desperately wanting to change the subject, I continue with the first topic that comes to mind. "Surprised to see you here today. Figured you'd be going to Potter's party."

"Oh, I am. I told him I'd be there soon as we're though here. 'Course, my part of this is a lot quicker than yours will be," he grinned.

The last members of our committee trickle in over the next couple of minutes, and the drudgery begins. Actually, we were more productive than I'd expected us to be. Several hours pass before we broke for the first break. Finnegan left then, and a part of me wished to be going with him, and I find myself hoping that Lila's threat was unfounded.

Unfortunately, the meeting reconvenes, pushing Lila, Potter, and Weasley from my mind. My pocket watch says midnight when I finally return to my office, lock the files into my cabinet, and apparate home.

The house is dark as I walked through the halls. It's quiet as well; I shrug out of my overcoat and listen for sounds as I near the bedroom. Gently, I push the door open. The palest moonlight illuminates the bed. It's empty.

I close the door behind me and drop my coat on the back of a chair. A quick glance into Lila's dressing room tells me she's not there, and the bathroom lights are off as well. The door to the balcony is open slightly, the breeze rustling the drapes. I push through them to see Lila standing against the rail. She looks resigned, and does not speak. 

"You should come inside now," I say, wrapping my arms around her. She shrugs away, and I am astounded. Lila's never rejected my touch once in ten years.

"Not tonight, Draco." It's clear from her posture that she means her words. I kiss the top of her head, then turn, and leave her to her thoughts. Sleep will not come tonight, not with Lila's tears on my mind.


	6. June

June

The clock drifted closer and closer to midnight, and I fell more and more into my melancholy mood. Fifty-two minutes left of our eleventh anniversary. The clock ticked. Fifty-one minutes. And he still wasn't home.

I've known all day that this was a possibility. When the Minister of Magic calls, his advisors are wont to deny. But why did it have to be today of all days? In ten years we've never been apart on this day, the day we pledged our lives, minds, and hearts to each other. Until today.

I rolled over onto my side, hoping that the glaring red of the digital clock would vanish. Of course it didn't. Now I could see out the window. Not much better of a view there. Rain, and lots of it. Usually, I love the rain. The smell of it, the shiver that the thunder brings, and the cleanliness that follows a good storm, when all of the world has been rinsed free of the dust and grime of daily life.

Thunder crashed; this time, instead of feeling that shiver, I just felt…alone. Too many empty rooms in the manor, I suppose. House elves don't count, not in the family I've married into. No matter how I try to convince anyone otherwise.

It's grown cold in the bedroom. I could cross the room and latch the windows, but that would require rising from the bed. Not enough energy to do that, I decide. I could close them with a wave of my wand as well, but I left that on my dressing table. Too apathetic to do that, I decide, and pull the blankets up closer around myself. 

Forty-one minutes.

Tick tock tick tock.

I close my eyes. Then open them. There is a stain on the ceiling, and for the life of me, I can't think of how it could have gotten there. Or why it hasn't been cleared away. Lightening flashes outside of the window, illuminating the trees, my gardens below. Roses. There have always been roses at the manor, since the day we were married here. Ten years, twenty-three hours and twenty two minutes ago. A midnight wedding. It was beautiful with the stars twinkling and candles floating in the air. Roses illuminated by lightening bugs and fairies. Crickets sang along with the music.

And every year since then, without fail, I've received a single white rosebud from my husband. Each one exquisite in their beauty and perfection; they're in my sitting room, enchanted with an Ever-Young spell to keep them such for another year until a new rose is added.

Nineteen minutes left; thunder rumbles again across the grounds. It begins to look more and more like he won't make it home in time. Which, I tell myself, I am prepared for. I console myself with the knowledge that he doesn't want to be away. A Malfoy simply doesn't tell the Minister of Magic no, not after the horrors others with that same name have committed in the past. Sins of the father, and such.

A single tear escapes from the corner of my eye. Dust, I assure myself; the room couldn't have been cleaned properly today. I close my eyes, determined not to watch as the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, and then past.

Thunder claps once more as the storm rages on outside. Another sound accompanies the thunder, something indistinguishable through the rain pounding on the balcony. You're hearing things, Lila, I scold myself. Slowly, I begin to drift off to sleep. Thunder, lightening, and the distinctive scent of aftershave and sweat.

Can't be, I assure myself.

The bed shifts. Just dreaming, just wishing.

"Lila." 

Something soft and silky caresses my cheek, my chin, sliding down my neck to stroke my shoulder. Perhaps…not a dream?

"Lila." 

That voice again, deep and rough, yet somehow…comforting. Familiar. Pulling myself from the twilight of sleep, I smile.

"Ah, you are awake. Open your eyes for me, my Lila."

With a request such as that, who could disobey? My eyes fluttered open, heavy from being on the verge of sleep. He smiles down at me and kisses the flower, then runs in across my lips. I reach up with one hand and he catches it in his own.

"Happy anniversary, Lila."

"Happy anniversary," I reply, my voice thick.

He closes my fingers around the stem of the rosebud.

"Lovely." I smiled at him, then glanced at the clock. "And with six minutes to spare."

He laughed at this, a deep, throaty laugh. "Ah, well. The superstition has been satisfied. And, as soon as the Minister is finished with me, I'll make this disappointing day up to you. You have my word on that."

"Superstition?" 

"I've never told you? Pureblood superstition, it's as old as Merlin himself, I believe. On the anniversary of the day we wed, I give you a single white rose bud to ensure another happy, harmonious, prosperous year together."

"And here, I've just thought you were being your old, sweet, charming self."

We shared a smile at this. He reached into his breast pocket.

"I can be that too," he replied, removing a long, slim box. He tapped the lid and it slid back. My breath hitched. Suspended by a hover charm in the box was a delicate gold chain with a miniature rosebud dangling from it. He removed the necklace from the box and put it on for me, hooking the clasp and gently sliding my hair out from under it. "Beautiful." He kissed me again. For a long minute, we simply watched each other. 

"I have to go back to the Ministry. Try and sleep. Hopefully, I'll be done by morning. We'll go away for a few days. France? Or maybe Italy?" he suggested.

"Alright. Just get back here soon," I insisted, laying back against the pillows and fingering the necklace. Amazing the difference six minutes, a gold chain and a silly flower can have on a girl in love. 

"As soon as I can. I love you, Lila. Sleep well." He ran a hand over my hair and I closed my eyes.

"Love you, too."

The bed shifted again; thunder crashed once more, but it seemed to be moving away now. The rain slowed to a gentle patter and slowly, I drifted off to sleep once more.


	7. July

July

"Look over there."

The sky lit up with brilliant colors and the sparks rained down through the inky blackness. Lila smiled radiantly from her place on the soft blanket on the ground and scooted closer to me. Our midnight picnic has more entertainment than I had originally planned.

"Is that coming from the Clearwater's or Snape's?" she asks; I chuckle softly.

"I think you just answered your own question. Has my godfather ever set fireworks in his life?"

"Not likely. Wonder what they're celebrating? Ohh!" More sparks shimmer in the darkness. Smokey haze takes their place as they fizzle into nothing. These intimate evenings with Lila are best parts of my days. The summer heat has left the ends of her hair curling slightly in the confines of its clips. My fingers itch to free it, yet experience has taught that my wife will protest. Weighing the pros against the cons, I find my traitorous fingertips reaching for her cocoa locks. They detour, and caress the cheekbone instead.

"Penny did say something about nieces and nephews coming to visit. Americans. Their independence day, I believe. I would guess it to be them." My fingers stray; she doesn't seem to notice. A strand of hair is coming loose, begging to be twined through my fingers.

"I remember. She seemed…resigned. The boys sound like a handful." Another crack and more colors fill the sky. I can see the embers reflected in Lila's eyes. Suddenly, her hair spills around her shoulders. She turns to glare at me.

"Oops. Just a mistake," I grin. Playfully. I hope.

"I can think of some other boys that are quite a handful, too," she teases. She leans in and the teasing grows more basic. Her lips taste sweet and her skin glows.

"Beautiful," I manage when we part. Doubt, though, creeps into her eyes, and unconsciously, her hand slips to her expanding waist. I catch it in my own, pulling the palm to my lips. "Beautiful," I repeat.

"Will you still say that when I rival a small elephant for size?" she asks. There is a smile on her lips that doesn't reach her eyes. She's lost just a touch of the fantastic shine. Her question is honest.

"I'll not only say it, _cara_, I'll mean it, too."

The anxiety doesn't leave her eyes, so I pluck her up from the blanket and settle her on my lap. Instinctively, she snuggles against my shirtfront. "It's only for a short time, Lila. And, think about what we'll have when it's over."

"Babies." The joy has begun to creep back into her lilting voice.

"Our babies. And for that, I'll be perfectly happy to have you rival a large elephant for size."

"Draco!" She bounced up and slapped playfully at me. Levity seems to have done the trick, this time at least. I harbor no illusions that I've heard the end of this. Lila may not be vain about her looks, but neither is she completely prideless.

Another round of fireworks erupt, and I am able to distract her. They shimmer like a chandelier before burning out, replaced by another burst, spiraling through the misty smoke of the previous rocket.

"I saw the Healer today." Her fingers trace the pattern on my shirt.

"And?"

"Everything is good." Her fingers shake only slightly, and she refuses to meet my eyes. I reach out and tap her chin until she does. The truth is reflected.

"You asked them, didn't you?" I ask, forcing my voice to sound stern.

"Ah…" Her eyes drop again, but they are glittering happily.

"Brat." She pouts prettily at me. Another rocket shoots into the sky, illuminating her from behind, and I smile at the sight in spite of myself. She is exquisite in any light.

"Are you angry?" she asks.

"Furious. Livid. I'll never get over it, we might have to split up now. I'm not sure you can make it up to me."

"Even if I kiss you?" she asks curiously.

"You can try it, but I'm awfully broken up about this." I barely kept the laughter out of my voice. She leaned in and took my lips with her own.

Later, I'll have to find out where she learned to do that thing with her tongue, but for now, I'm still trying to remember how to get oxygen.

There is a satisfied look in her eyes; I can't remember if I ever knew how to speak. She laughs and the sound is tinkling and sweet. Another firework sparkles in the darkness, showering beneath the tree line.

"Apparently, I was wrong. And, we're going to talk about that fun little trick later." She laughs again. Then, back to the topic at hand. "What did the healers say?"

"Oh, I thought you didn't want to know?" she smiled.

"Tell me," I demand.

"Well, since you ask so nicely." Her grin is almost too much for me. Then she continued. "Alright. We're going to have a daughter."

Baby girls, with my eyes and Lila's smile. Hopefully her temperament, too. They'll be as beautiful as their mother.

"And a son."

Immediately, my perception was altered, and I could see my daughter and my son, side by side in a cradle, cuddled together as we watch on. I wonderer if anyone other than myself could appreciate the symmetry.

The fireworks ended as abruptly as they'd begun. I shifted on the blanket until Lila and I were lying side by side.

We spent the rest of the night amassing a list of the most hideous pureblood names we could think of. It turned into a contest; I think she won, when she suggested Nardwuar and Magika. Though, I still wonder if she made that last on up.

And we were still giggling about them when the sun began to rise in the morning.


	8. August

August

The moon is high tonight, casting shadows through the open bedroom windows. The heat is stifling and the air stagnant.

I rub my eyes with a cloth, then blow my nose. Summer colds are awful.

I refuse to turn the lights on, it would wake him. Draco needs to sleep, he puts in too much time working these days.

Though lately he's been worrying about me as well. No matter how often I explain, he still harbors concerns about problems with the babies. He can be such a mother hen sometimes.

Shivering with chill, I pull a blanket closer around me, though it makes little sense with the outside temperature being what it is; somewhere outdoors one of the horses whinnies restlessly. Draco stirs, but doesn't waken.

I move to the terrace doors and let my gaze take in the shadowed gardens below. A rabbit scurries across the grass. I stifle a cough as I watch it.

"Lila."

His voice is thick with sleep, but I can hear concern as well.

"Go back to bed," I tell him.

"Not until you do. Do you want something to help you sleep? I brewed some of the potions that the healer approved for the babies," he offered.

Just like Draco. I can't think when he would have had free time to brew potions for me, but there we have it.

I try to explain that it is unnecessary. Unfortunately, I am overcome by coughs instead.

He pushed up from the bed and stood beside me. Quite a sight, actually. Blond hair, toned muscles, tanned skin, black silk shorts, accented by midnight moonlight.

He takes my hand and propels me to the bed.

"Sit. I'll be right back." My eyes are tired, my body weary. I play absently with my wedding band while he is gone, and contemplate snuggling down onto the bed straight away. Two thoughts stop me. If I lay down, breathing becomes…tricky. And, if I do, I won't have enough energy to get back up when Draco returns. He can be so finicky about taking my prenatal potions. I've long since learned that it can be easier to just do things his way.

It seems to take him an inordinately long amount of time to return. The clock ticks rapidly and I push the blankets away, overly warm once again. With a deep breath and a weak sigh my eye lids droop until they're closed. They were too heavy to keep open at any rate.

The door creaks and my husband's bare feet pad across the plush rug that adorns the floor.

"Take this." The glass vial is cool when pressed into my hand. I open my eyes a slit and remove the cork before raising it to my lips. The potion is bitter as it passes my tongue, and I can hear Draco chuckle quietly.

"You're as bad as a child," he teases.

"Tastes foul," I complain. He is sitting behind me now, so I lean back against him, instantly enveloped in his arms.

"But it works quickly, so we'll soon be able to sleep again." His voice is husky; he'll be tired in the morning.

Breathing was becoming easier and the lightheadedness was gone. With a bit of maneuvering we were once again both tucked comfortably against the pillows.

His fingertips played gently across my skin, their rhythmic motion lulling me into unconsciousness.

"Sleep well, Angel," I hear him whisper, his breathing already beginning to even out in sleep.

Sleep overtook before I can reply, but the sensation of deep caring remained between us even as the first light began to shine hours later.


	9. September

September

Funny, the things that come out when the sun goes down. Used to be my ghosts, demons from the past. They were my nighttime tormentors and for a long time I couldn't hide from them, they had me running scared. It still happens from time to time.

Then Lila steps out. She's the reward at the end of my long day. And right now, she's outside running her toes through the warm sand.

She knows me like no one else, so it should be no surprise that she was the one who insisted we take this trip.

"You're working too hard," she said, and promptly aparated us away. I wasn't grateful at the time. At the time, I was insolent and snappish and the prat that everyone called me in my youth. Not that I didn't want to spend time alone with my wife, but it seemed like a bad time to be away from home. Work is chaotic on a good day, and the babies really could come early, it wouldn't be unheard of for them to arrive before their due date.

In the several hours that we've been here, however, Lila has shown me just how wrong I was to be churlish with her. She started with a tiny little dress and a mirrored plate of strawberries and champagne. I still find it unsettling how she can tease me with a simple touch and the whole world shakes, but if I haven't grown accustom to it after ten years, I have no faith that I ever will.

The hotel she reserved is one of our favorites, we've visited often during our marriage. The sandy beach just outside the door is one of the main attractions for my wife, and it holds her attention at present. Pocketing the room key, I decide it is best to join her.

"Are you cold?" I ask, walking up beside her.

Her eyes raise to meet mine, and she smiles. Her cheeks are sun kissed from the time outdoors today, and she shakes her head in answer to my question. Silly, I suppose, since it's still unseasonably warm, even for this late in the evening. "Let's walk then," I say, taking her hand in my own. Her fingers are soft, and I can't resist bringing them to my lips.

"Feeling a bit romantic?" she asks as we stroll along the shoreline.

My brows quirk. "Why, of course, madam. Who wouldn't in the presence of such beauty?"

"Tease," she said, flashing me her sweetest smile.

"But of course." I take her arm, entwining it with mine as we walk. "I'm glad you convinced me to do this. You were right," I admitted. "I needed the break."

"Merlin! Mark the date on my calendar! Draco Malfoy was wrong!"

"Hey!" I grinned. "I never said I was wrong. I said you were right. Significant difference."

"Of course, darling." Sass, I do believe.

"At any rate. I'm glad we're here."

The stars were sparkling in the sky above, unpretentious, as if some playful child had tossed them carelessly on the navy blue backdrop of the midnight sky. Their reflection shone in the crests of the waves from the sea.

"Let's wade," Lila said, slipping her arm from mine and her sandals from her feet. She dashed to the surf, her dress flowing from the breeze and the movements. I kicked off my own shoes and followed, a bit more sedately.

With a gasp, she jumped back from the cool water that rolled over her toes, and I couldn't repress my chuckle. I took her hand and together we braved the rather warm waves from the sea. The wet sand was less than pleasant under my feet, but I barely noticed as my eyes took in the beauty that surrounded us. We stepped forward together until the water reached the hem of her dress. Lila kicked her foot slightly in my direction, raining drops of saltwater up and down my bare legs.

Slowly a grin crossed my face…I reached down to splash the water back at her with my hand.

"You could," she said, stilling my hand with her whimsical voice. "Or, you could kiss me instead."

Faced with a choice like that, what was any warm blooded man to do? I would have had to be dead and buried six weeks to turn down that offer. She stepped to me and I took her in my arms, marveling at the stars that were in her eyes.

"Really glad you made me come," I repeated before our lips met in the moonlight.


	10. October

October

This is always the most difficult night of the year for my husband. The anniversary of the night he almost lost everything. What is a day of celebration for the rest of our community, is a day of grieving for Draco. The night so many of his friends were killed. By the husband of my best friend. It should cause friction. It should make the relationship she and I have impossible.

It only makes us stronger. No, Draco and Mr. Potter will never be able to stand being in the same room together, but being the good husbands that they are, they put aside their differences once a year for Ginny and I. Even the fact that they were, essentially, on the same side of the war, they never could see eye to eye. Halloween is the only day that they will come together peacefully. It's a tradition that started many years ago.

_We wandered through the silent cemetery hand in hand, reading the names of the fallen. The number of names that I could match with faces was overwhelming. Hand in hand, we followed the path, saying silent prayers for the forgotten. People who had been our friends, teenagers, really. Students. Study partners, those who would pass a rainy Sunday in the Hogwarts common rooms with us. Brothers. Sisters. Friends._

"_They deserved better than this," I heard my husband say. "They deserved more. He was wrong, about everything, and they would still be here if…"_

"_No ifs, Draco. Pray for them. Grieve for them. But the ifs will take over your life if you let them, and then you're no better off that they are."_

"_Someone needs to remember them."_

"_And that's why we're here. We will remember them."_

_He shook his head. "More than just one night a year. By more than just you and me."_

"_You seem to have an idea about something," I say, squeezing his hand._

"_Maybe." He falls silent and we continue to walk._

_The names on the stones are familiar. Patil. Nott. Weasley. Sinistra. Wood. And those are just a few. In just one memorial park. There are hundreds more across the country and abroad._

"_We need a…memorial…of some sort. A national day of remembrance."_

"_For once we agree, Malfoy," came a voice from behind us. We both jumped at the sound, and Draco pulled his wand at once, training it on the newcomer._

"_Potter. What are you doing here?" he sneers._

"_Same as you, from the look of it. Seeing that they're not forgotten." The other man looks weary. His limp is barely noticeable, but I can see he is still in pain. "Put your wand away. I'm not armed. And I'm not about to attack you and your wife over the graves of war heroes." A grunt from his partner causes him to grin. That is the first time I notice Ginny there, and we share a smile. "I'm not about to attack you at all," he amends. _

_Draco surprises me when he sheaths his wand completely. It is unlike him to do so._

"_What is it that we agree on?" he asks, his voice disbelieving._

"_A memorial. And I'll see that the credit goes to the Malfoy family. I think you could use the positive press," he smirks._

"_Harry," Ginny snaps. _

"Sorry, old habits and all."

"_Of course. Besides, I got all of the good press I need when Lila married me last summer. I'm sure you couldn't have missed the write ups on the wedding."_

"_No," he admitted. "I'm not sure whether to congratulate you, Mrs. Malfoy, or offer you a CT scan."_

_I smile, un-offended by his comment. "Most likely, both. Ginny, we should get together again soon. In the daylight."_

"_I'll owl you. Mum would love to see your honeymoon pictures, maybe you could come by the house?"_

"_I would love to."_

_  
"Come along with her when she does, Malfoy. We'll settle the details for the Day of Remembrance. Arthur will be there, and he'll be able to square everything with the Minister, I'm sure." Harry's voice was bitter when he made the suggestion, as if working on anything with Draco would be torturous. _

_My husband's reply was just as uneasy. "I'll be there."_

Twelve months later there was a National Day of Remembrance for the victims of the Phoenix Wars, and every year after, the four of us somehow make our way together to that same cemetery. It's cold tonight. Even snow and rain wouldn't keep us away. I pull my cape tighter around me. Up ahead we can see the Potter's standing on the bluff. Draco growls at the sight of them, but by now Ginny and I are both quite aware that it is merely a front. On both Draco and Harry's parts. They may not be friends, but they are no longer adversaries, either.

We join them on the bluff.

"Potter," my husband sneers.

"Malfoy," comes the reply. Then more gently, "Lila. Are you sure you should be out here tonight?" he asks with a smile.

"I'm alright. It may be an early evening for me, though."

"Then lets do what we came here to do, shall we?" he asks with a smile.

I nod, and we all remove our wands. With an unspoken agreement, we all begin to cast spells. Before long, all of the stones are laden with flowers. It takes several minutes for us to complete our self appointed task, and when we are through it resembles early spring, instead of late fall, but we are satisfied.

Regrouping at the bluff, we silently observe our wand work critically. Our friends would have approved, I think.

Draco looks at Harry. "Whisky?" he asks.

"Not strong enough. Firewhisky. Our place or yours?"

"Ours. Lila needs to get home."

Ginny smiles at me. "You sure you're taking good care of the newest generation, there? I still can't believe you're the first of our friends to have a baby."

"I'll show you the nursery when we get back. And the list of baby names. It grows daily. Along with my waistline."

With that, we all aparate back to the manor, the sad task complete, at least for another year.


	11. November

November

I detest bright light. And sterile cleanliness. And, the color beige. Mostly, I detest hospitals. And healers. And, the young witch who came to take away the dinner tray.

My boots slap quietly against the linoleum as I stalk up and down the hallway. Make note – I am stalking, not pacing.

There are few visitors at this time of night, and the healers are giving me wide berth. Because they know I detest them. And really, who can blame me? It's been thirty six hours.

I promised my Lila I would be at her side the entire time. Instead, I'm out here, pacing – no, stalking. Malfoy's don't pace. I'm out here stalking the deserted hospital ward. I stalk past a window and catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a glass window. At the moment, I am quite lucky it's going on 11 pm. I would frighten children and small dogs if I were to come across any. Which, admittedly, is possible, in the maternity ward.

I glanced at my watch at the end of the hallway. 36 hours, four minutes. What is taking so bloody long!? My feet move of their own accord back to Lila's room. The door is closed and I can not hear any sound from within. There is a chirping of some sort emanating from the reception desk a few feet away; a baby cries from an undisclosed location, but as it is not my child, I find I don't much care about its woes.

I can see some movement through the drawn curtains within Lila's room and I'm suddenly filled with hope.

Perhaps it will be now.

Several seconds pass.

The several more.

My hope begins to deflate as nobody had come searching for me.

I am not allowed back into Lila's room until I gain control over my stressed nerves. She promised pain if I don't comply.

Actually, she gave very vivid descriptions of inflicting said pain. I am curious where she learned such methods.

I slump into a chair outside of her door, resting my head in my hands. A most undignified posture. Fortunately right now, I care less about looking sloppy than if someone threatened me with a fire-breathing dragon. For the first time, I notice the wall clock. 11:39. The clocks here must be charmed to move backwards. How is one expected to muster confidence in an establishment of healers who can not manage to properly set a clock?

Another ping from the elevator. Likely another father-to-be who is going to want to celebrate. The thought is disturbing, and I find myself scowling up at the newcomer.

"Draco."

The voice of comfort. If I weren't nearly twenty-seven years old I would climb into her lap and weep. My Mother.

"Oh, darling," she purrs. I jump to my feel and offer a proper welcome, kissing her cheek softly.

"Mum. Dad. It's late, you really didn't have to come tonight." Though I'm glad they did. I haven't been this happy to see my parents since I was three and they were the only people I knew.

"How is Lila?"

I frown. "I don't know. I'm not allowed to go in there," I confess.

"Things are progressing normally, then, I see," Father grins wryly. His voice sounds both teasing and reassuring.

"Lucius, be nice," Mother scolds. "I'm going to go in and let Lila know we're here. Take your son for some air before he paces himself to exhaustion."

"I'm not pacing!" I interrupt. My protestation is overlapped by my father's assertion that "Malfoy's don't pace!" She smiles indulgently and pats my shoulder comfortingly before disappearing into Lila's room.

Then I look at my father questioningly.

"The ministry isn't going to give you grief for being here, are they?" I ask.

"No. Potter himself floo'd and suggested we come." 

This baffles me. Harry Potter always seems to know everything, but how he knew my wife was in labor is puzzling. Father must sense my confusion.

"Ginny was with Lila when her pains began," he explains, which makes sense now, as Ginny is Potter's wife, and would have told him straight away.

"Come," he continues, and I follow him mindlessly. There is a visitor's lounge not far away, and it is deserted. He closes the door and locks it with a charm. I raise a perfectly manicured brow at this.

"I've brought you something," he announces, reaching into his robes. I can't help but chuckle at the bottle he extracts. "This is the same gift my father brought me the night you were born." He hands me a double shot of firewhiskey.

While far from the first drink I've had with my father, this one may be the proudest. We drain the tumbler's, and I reach to refill them. He stops me.

"You'll want to be sober for this, believe me," he quietly promises.

I nod, accepting his advice. "We should get back."

I am much calmer as my father and I return to Lila's room. I push the door open slowly. Mother is holding her hand, coaxing her through the pain.

I take my wife's other hand and wipe the hair from her sweaty brow.

"Better now?" I ask when her features ease.

"Yes. You?" I kiss her lips in reply. "Good. Because I think you're just in time," she smiles.

And, indeed, it seems only minutes later when someone – I don't even know who – place the first newborn in my arms. Nikolas Lucien Malfoy.

"A very strong name," the healer approves. I must have spoken aloud. I look up in surprise to see my father smiling proudly. They do not know our choices of names.

"And his sister?"

"Anya." It was Lila's choice. She is enamored with our baby girl, and I can see she's already forgotten her pain.

I settle beside her on the bed and together we memorize every inch of the children.

Lila looks to me with wonder in her eyes.

"Draco? We've made something perfect, haven't we?"

"Brilliantly done, my angel," I praise her. She's sleepy now, and I bid her to rest. With Lila resting comfortably and Mum and Dad returning home, I spend the remainder of the night gazing in wonder at my daughter and my son.


	12. December

December

The song has played most of the day. Whether audibly or just in my head makes little difference, I am not likely to forget the message.

It would be just like him to have purposely set the record player to repeat the song at preset intervals. Or to instruct the orchestra to play it throughout the night--though at the moment they were in the middle of a rather moving waltz. A not so subtle reminder that among the hustle and bustle, the merriment and festivities, the true meaning of the night is about love.

I raise a delicate wine glass to my painted lips and sip. Little did he know that he was never far from my thoughts. Or, perhaps he did. The dry wine is a favorite of my in-laws, and I drink one glass just to be polite. A tailored waiter passes and I absently set the nearly empty glass on his tray.

"Mrs. Malfoy. Lovely as always." A clock chimes in the distance, as I turn to discover the owner of the voice. Mitchell Blechley.

"Lila, please. It's been too long, Mitchell," I smile. An old friend of my husband, one who makes me distinctly uncomfortable, what with his roving eyes and too familiar touch. Still, he is a ministry official, so polite formality will be the word of the day.

"Lila. Several months too long. I understand congratulations are in order? How old is the newest Master Malfoy now?" His eyes belie his saccharine sweet smile, he clearly isn't interested in the baby…or the platinum and diamond band on my left hand, for that matter.

_My eyes are just a bit higher, Mr. Blechley_

"Nikolas and Anya are five weeks now. We're quite proud of both our son and our daughter." With emphasis on the second.

Yes, lay the new mummy pride on strong, perhaps he will grow weary and leave. After all, there are only a few more minutes until midnight, the ballroom is quite crowded, and I do have an appointment to keep.

The orchestra struck up another song; outside the snow began to fall, just a light dusting for the garden paths and to shimmer through the candlelight in the windows. My eyes drift to the enchanting sight.

"Of course, I do recall hearing something about twins, now that you say that. Still, one would think they are a bit young to be away from their mother, even for an evening."

How dare…inwardly, I take a deep breath, drawing my eyes back to Mitchell.

_Calmly, now, Lila._

"No, no. They are both upstairs in the nursery. Cissy was kind enough to have Draco's nursery prepared for them tonight. The nanny elf is with them so that Draco and I could be able to enjoy ourselves without being concerned for them."

The opening chords of the orchestra's song seem familiar. If Blechley would be quiet long enough, perhaps I could place them.

"Brilliant. In that case, could I interest you in a dance, perhaps?" He took hold of my arm without waiting for my reply. Ire burned in my veins, and I feel like a lioness ready to strike, but more than ten years of practice kept it from my voice, my eyes. With perhaps a bit more firmness than was necessary, I removed his manicured fingertips from the silky sleeve of my gown.

"I'm afraid not." My smile was apologetic. It was also false, a trait taught years ago by my mother in law. I'll have to remember to thank her for that again. "Draco is trying to catch my attention. I'm afraid I must go and attend to him. Good evening, Mr. Blechley." He kissed the back of my hand.

"A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy."

And, just as quickly as the unpleasant encounter had begun, I extricate myself from his figurative grasp and disappear into the crowd of couples on the hardwood dance floor.

I pass by the orchestra's stage on my way to the wall of French doors that lead to the terrace and gardens. The wry grin was still playing on my face when I reach my destination. The champagne has left my cheeks pink and my eyes bright.

"You told them to play this song, didn't you?" I ask, walking into my husband's embrace. He leaned down and kissed me, neglecting to answer the inquiry. His kiss leaves me feeling warm and tingling, so I don't mind his avoidance. He takes hold of my arm, perhaps a bit possessively, but with Draco, it feels…right…and I don't mind; the lioness has transformed into a kitten. We step outside, and I pull my wrap tighter around my shoulders. Snow and gravel crunch under our step and a weak moon is trying to shine through the snow clouds.

Few couples have taken advantage of the secluded gardens, and we are suddenly quite alone. A gentle breeze has picked up; above us, a star twinkles. I stop, and Draco stands behind me, wrapping his muscular arms around my waist. I lean against his chest contentedly.

"Only a few more minutes until Christmas. Would you like to wish on the star?" he asks. I turn slightly so as to see his eyes.

"No. You're here. The children are well. Who could need more?"

His response was to lean in for another kiss. I always enjoy the taste of his lips. We part, and another sleepy sigh escaped my lips.

"Ready to head up to bed?" his soft voice whispers in my ear.

I nod, letting my eyes drift closed for a moment. The quiet strength of his embrace is comforting. "Just one more stop before we say our goodbyes," I agree.

"Where's that?" he asks, turning back toward the manor.

Quietly, I hum a few bars of music, then pull away, leaving him standing beneath the tree.

_Meet me under the mistletoe_

_Midnight Christmas Eve_

His quiet chuckle follows me back to the terrace, and it's not long before his footsteps match mine.

I make it to the double doors before he does, but only by seconds. Flushed cheeks and grinning boyish smile greets me as he roughly turns me around. Quite suddenly I find myself held tightly against him as his lips crush mine.

_Your sweet kiss is the first gift I'd like to receive._

"The first. And the last. I find I am quite taken with you, Madam Malfoy."

"Is that so?" And, with a quiet whisper, "Can you think of anywhere you would like to take me at this moment, Master Malfoy?"

Oh, how I always love that mischievous gleam in his eye…


End file.
